Fairly Straight Forward
by Luna L. Quill
Summary: The beginnings of a collection of Myrnin/Oliver oneshots, drabbles and possibly a ficlet or two in the future :) ...'Myrnin's voice came slithering out of the darkness, seeming to come from every direction at once. He spoke in sing-song, his words pitched childishly high, and Oliver repressed a shudder at the sound of it. It was the voice of madness.'...
1. Quicksand

_In the unlikely case of you visiting this page without having given the description a least a cursory glance, this missive serves as a final warning: There will be men. They will be doing things, and possibly (or possibly not) enjoying themselves immensely in the process.  
I thank you to go elsewhere (perhaps to another of my fanfics..?) if that sort of thing doth not please you. ~ End transmission ~_

* * *

Oliver stalked across the street, collar pulled up to protect the back of his neck from the heat of the midday sun. His legs moved in short, irritated bursts within the confines of his long trench coat, muscles working furiously to drag as much ground behind him as they could before the sun became aware of his presence.

He could already feel it beginning to irk him, like the faint tingling one gets before the onset of full-blown toothache - the kind that results in several agonising hours in the dentist's chair and the eventual removal of the affected tooth. Oliver swore to himself and reminded himself again of the set of circumstances which had rendered it necessary for him to be crawling about in the sun, walking, at human pace no less.

Trawling the entire town, looking for that half-witted fool Amelie usually liked to keep locked beneath the Day house. The vampire ground his teeth together in frustration, feeling satisfied at the sharp jolt of pain which shot through his jaw.

If he found him first - he would wring his neck.

_xxx_

_"You ought to keep a closer eye on your pets, Amelie."_

_Amelie looked at him sharply, her irises flashing red. _

_"Myrnin is not a pet, Oliver," She hissed, "He is my oldest friend."_

_Oliver snorted. _

_"You certainly keep him caged like one."_

_Amelie sighed and leaned back in her wing-backed chair, the fingers of one slender hand drumming on the surface of her desk. _

_"He remains there... For his own safety, and for the safety of others. He is free to leave, if he so chooses," She said, quietly. _

_"Then why this witch-hunt?" Oliver growled. _

_"I am... concerned about him."_

_His face softened, and he reached across the desk to encapsulate one of her hands tenderly in his own. _

_"Myrnin is over nine hundred years old, Amelie. Not a child. Surely this is ridiculous, the man can look after himself for a while."_

_Amelie withdrew her hand from his. _

_"No, Oliver. He cannot. You saw what he did to Ëosulf. You know what he is capable of. He is insane."_

_xxx_

Oliver growled. The man truly was a maniac. He had been missing for almost a fortnight now - although he had gone unmissed for almost three days before the Danvers girl had noticed his absence - and he had left a bloody trail of bodies in his wake, the most recent of which belonged to Ëosulf, one of Amelie's minions. The fair-haired vampire was of Nordic descent, five centuries old. A mere child compared to the likes of himself and Amelie, but those five hundred years had now been erased as though they never existed. His body was found on the upper floor of an empty house - a Founder house, left empty for a particular, grisly reason. It had been well used back in the days when hunting was allowed, but more recently, since Amelie had passed new laws, it had fallen into disrepair. Oliver sneered a little. He still thought that Amelie was losing her wits. The vampire population would not put up with this forever - hunting was an instinct, like lust; not something which can simply be turned off, crushed, forgotten. They would rise up, and he - well, he would be there to destroy any who tried to challenge Amelie.

He would protect her with his life, and worse, she knew it. He had fallen in love with her slowly, so slowly he had not realised it was happening - otherwise he would never have allowed it to happen. His hatred for her in the beginning had gradually cooled to resentment, had wavered over to grudging respect for a long time, and then had slowly morphed into something stronger. Now - well, now he was crawling around in the sun for her, sweating and burning in the light of the day, looking for a madman. Oliver had a suspicion that all he had to do was look in the mirror, and he would see one.

He had been walking around all day, following Myrnin's trail. Since Ëosulf's body had been found, Amelie had taken all but the most able fighters off the hunt. It was understandable; Ëosulf had not been merely a follower. He had been a friend, and a companion to her also for a span of time. He had been truly loyal to Amelie, and although she never showed it, Oliver knew she regretted his death. She had been shocked by it, appalled at the state the body had been found in. Oliver had seen the room himself. It was truly the work of a lunatic.

The body - drained of blood - lay spreadeagled in the middle of an otherwise bare room. At first they had thought perhaps it was the work of a vampire-hating citizen; blood was everywhere, flung against the walls and smeared over Ëosulf's face and mouth as if he had been feeding - only it was his own blood. Upon closer examination, they discovered that the blood, far from being simply flung onto the walls, had been daubed on carefully, forming strange alchemical symbols and ineligible formulae. The entire room, floor, walls, even the ceiling, were covered in it. Red, red, everywhere. And Oliver had seen the dawning horror on Amelie's face as she had come to the inevitable conclusion that her old friend - her dearest friend - had done this.

Oliver could well see him in it, now. The expressive smears of blood across the wall, put there by Myrnin's own long fingers. That insane grin distorting his features. His thin hands, digging mercilessly through layers of bone and flesh to pull the heart out of its warm cavity, still beating. The madman, crowing over his prize. And then later, realising what he had done, falling to his knees beside the body, pale, bloody hands fluttering over the dead face, staining the mouth red. Crying, begging. And then the anger. The broken shelves, overturned table. The knife, now buried in the wall, raised on himself. Then finally, huddled in the corner, staring into the abyss. Yes, Oliver could see it. He had known the man long enough by now.

But then what? The body had been at the end of a series of increasingly grisly killings, human and vampire. That was four days ago, and nothing had been heard of since then. Oliver suppressed a shudder. Somehow, the silence was worse.

He turned into Birden Street, where Ëosulf's body had been found. It was only a few blocks away from the Day house. The end of the trail. Oliver had followed in Myrnin's footsteps all over the town, asking questions and checking every likely location, but had discovered nothing they did not already know. Myrnin, for whatever reason, had snapped and embarked on a pretty impressive killing spree. No one had seen him - or rather, Oliver assumed, no one had seen him and lived to tell the tale. Save for Claire. Of course the Danvers girl had seen him, and of course he apparently had broken his own rules and not killed her. Claire had a peculiar, irritating way of bringing out the best in the old fool. According to her report, she had simply woken one night, three days ago, to see him sitting in the shadows of her room. She had screamed, but by the time her friends got there, he was gone. They had not spoken, but Myrnin had also not killed since the encounter. Well, that or he had started hiding the bodies.

Oliver stopped in front of the empty Founder house where the body had been found to give its surroundings a quick scan. It was in what had been the most run-down area of Morganville, where only the most desperate lived. It had been a prime hunting area up until very recently, with the advent of the new laws to encourage equality between humans and vampires. Amelie had even had street lights installed, which made the street almost as bright as day. They were beacons of hope for the humans, and symbols of oppression for the vampires. Or so Oliver had been informed by one particularly poetic young protégée of Amelie's. She could be excused, however, having been born in the late 1700s, during the Romantic movement. Not that Oliver cared about her opinion in the slightest. He would continue to do as he pleased, as he had always done, secure in the knowledge of his position as one of the oldest and most powerful vampires in Morganville, as well as Amelie's second in command. He was almost untouchable, and the thought brought a small smirk to his features.

After briefly surveying the outside of the building, he made his way inside, searching the house quickly. He did not expect to find Myrnin there, but he checked anyway on principle. It was a well known fact that fugitives often hide in the last place they are expected to be, which is also why people rarely check those places. Myrnin was not there, as Oliver had expected.

As he was walking back out of the house, however, he became aware of an odd feeling in the air which he had overlooked before; the crackling of energy, almost intangible but still there.

He followed it to the kitchen, and it was as he was studying the room with new eyes that he realised what he had missed before. The Founder houses all had the same layout, but in this one the door to the pantry, which would usually be just to the left of the kitchen door, was missing.

Oliver frowned, staring intently at the patch of wall where the door should be. He could just make out the badly hidden seams where a plastered and wallpapered panel had been made to look like part of the wall. Oliver had no doubt that somewhere nearby was hidden a lever or switch which would open the door. He achieved the same result far quicker by kicking straight through the panel.

The plaster cracked and fell inwards, throwing up a small cloud of dust which engulfed Oliver, obscuring his vision and covering his clothes in a thick dusting of plaster powder. Cursing, he renewed his vow to wring Myrnin's neck when he found him, and climbed carefully through the jagged hole into the darkness beyond.

Once inside, the dim light from the kitchen only filtered a few feet in, ending abruptly as if blocked by an invisible wall. The crackling of energy was stronger here. Oliver took a few steps forward, and a strange feeling passed over him - strange, but familiar. The darkness around him was suddenly complete - for a moment, he could not see a thing. And the scent of the air had suddenly changed. It was musty where before there had been the scent of damp and rot from the abandoned house. There was also the vague, acrid tang of chemicals in the air.

Oliver turned, and suddenly understood what had happened. He had passed through a portal hidden in the darkness of the 'pantry'. Amelie had told him that the portal system was down, but Myrnin had obviously found a way to get it working again - and had been very careful in not letting anyone find out. Despite his shows of lunacy and idiocy, Myrnin could be a cunning and calculating foe, and Oliver reminded himself not to underestimate him.

He crept further forward into the room, his eyes having adjusted enough by this time to see the silhouettes and dark shapes of objects around him; a few tables in the distance, a small sofa directly in front of him, a chair to his left. He could not make out much more, and hissed as he took another step and heard the loud crunch of glass beneath his foot. The silence that followed seemed somehow even deeper than before, and it took Oliver a few seconds to realise what was missing - the almost inaudible electric hum of the portal had stopped. He cracked his head to the left slightly. It was gone.

Oliver stopped moving, focusing all of his energy on his sense of hearing and his sight, eyes narrowed. No movement. No sound.

He almost relaxed, and then - rustling, off to the left. Oliver's head snapped round to face the noise, eyes flashing red.

"Myrnin," He hissed.

The rustling stopped.

"_Who iiis iiit?!_"

Myrnin's voice came slithering out of the darkness, seeming to come from every direction at once. He spoke in sing-song, his words pitched childishly high, and Oliver repressed a shiver at the sound of it. It was the voice of madness.

"Myrnin, you fool!" He snarled, "It is pitch black in here!"

The sound of the other man's giggling echoed horribly around the darkened room; Oliver fought to keep control of himself, grinding his teeth together in irritation.

"For God's sake, man!"

Abruptly, the giggling stopped. After a brief pause, Myrnin's voice sounded again, closer this time. His voice had dropped, dangerous and low, so that he almost growled his words.

"_Will you walk into my parlour? said the Spider to the Fly..._"

Oliver turned abruptly and stumbled backwards, startled at the closeness of Myrnin's voice, and just caught the shadow of a shadow flitting away in the corner of his eye.

_"'Tis the prettiest little parlour that ever you did spy..._"

Myrnin's breath was at his nape this time, and Oliver spun around with a snarl, grabbing on to the man just as he heard a switch being thrown nearby.

The lights suddenly flicked on overhead, and shocked and temporarily blinded, Oliver loosened his grip on the other vampire's clothing, raising an arm to shield his eyes.

Myrnin immediately lunged at him, knocking him off balance and sending him flying backwards. They crashed to the floor together, both grappling for control. Oliver, still almost blinded, opened his eyes in time to see a clawed hand descend towards him. He turned his face to the side reflexively, snarling as Myrnin's fingernails, missing their mark of his eyes, tore open the flesh of his right cheek instead.

The other man fought like a wildcat, hissing and scratching and biting wherever he could, and though Oliver was the more intelligent fighter, Myrnin was possessed with the unnatural strength of the insane, and held the upper hand.

Within a single minute, just a blur to the human eye, Myrnin had him held tightly in the wiry confines of his limbs, unable to move. Oliver lay on his back, Myrnin beneath him, arms twisted painfully beneath his body. The man seemed to have more than the usual number of limbs, somehow able to hold Oliver immobile and have an arm spare to snake its way around his neck, squeezing like a constrictor.

Oliver made a last, desperate move to get free, but there was an audible crack as Myrnin flexed the muscles of his right arm slightly, and broke Oliver's left wrist. He hissed in pain, then tensed and swore as he felt as well as heard the other man laugh maniacally beneath him, and continue to recite the eerie nursery rhyme, his words ragged with the effort it was taking him to restrain Oliver.

"_The way into my parlour is up a winding stair,_"

"What on this earth are you talking about?!" Oliver wheezed, unable to force sufficient air past Myrnin's restricting arm to speak. His only reply was another surge of giggling, before Myrnin resumed his rhyme, still speaking in sing-song, the lilt of his Welsh accent strong.

_"And I've many a curious thing to shew when you are there..."_ At this point, he trailed off and began muttering to himself, "Can't remember the rest. Where is it? No...no, no. All wrong. Wrong!"

While he had been speaking, his grip on Oliver has loosened as if he had forgotten he was there, but with this last word he seemed to come back to himself again, and he clamped down again with frightening force. His voice changed again in timbre, becoming low and almost seductive.

"Now then, my pretty, what will I do with you? Why have you wandered into my parlour and disturbed me? Hmm?" He spoke huskily into Oliver's ear, causing the vampire's face to twist in disgust and anger.

"You are raving, you fool! Release me!" When he remained silent, Oliver snarled, feeling the pressure building in the bones of his arms, threatening to snap them. His wrist, bent at an unnatural angle, still hadn't healed, "Myrnin! Amelie sent me, you wretched dog!"

"Oh, you know my name!" In an instant, Myrnin had somehow rolled them over as if running on steam and, possessed of a strength Oliver never would have guessed at, dragged him up to standing, still keeping his arms twisted behind his back. He was still unable to see Myrnin's face, but now they were standing he realised exactly where they were - Myrnin's infernal lab. How no one had discovered he was here was a mystery, and one that irked Oliver very much. He was put in this position through the sheer incompetence of others, and to his humiliation was at the mercy of a man he had always mocked and disparaged.

"How is it that you know my name?"

Once more, Myrnin sounded excited, like a child. Oliver ignored the question.

"Enough. I tire of this. If you are here, my job is done. I have found you, and you are safely returned to your little pen."

Myrnin released him suddenly, pushing him forwards.

"I know why you're here!" He shouted, "_She_ sent you!"

Oliver stretched and rolled his shoulders, feeling several ligaments pop back into place. Then he turned slowly to regard the man in front of him.

Myrnin was unkempt, dishevelled, dark wavy hair in an untamed halo around his head. His clothing was nothing out of the ordinary for him, if the man even had an ordinary; black frock coat, half of the lower left side missing, torn away. A dirty white shirt, hanging open to expose a pale, well-defined chest. Black trousers, stained and filthy. Lack of shoes. Perhaps slightly more bedraggled than was normal, Oliver thought. He answered slowly, calmly.

"Yes. Amelie sent me to find you. I have done so."

An odd look settled on Myrnin's face. He licked his lips.

"...Find me?"

"Yes," Oliver said impatiently, shaking out his sleeves and straightening his collar, managing to summon up a vestige of his usual sneer as he surveyed their surroundings disdainfully, "To find you and ensure that you are returned to your...hole."

He took out his cell from his pocket, flipped it open, and began to key in Amelie's number.

"What are you doing?" Myrnin's voice had sharpened, he was watching Oliver alertly now, sinking into a slightly offensive stance.

Oliver sighed, looking up briefly in a gesture which seemed dismissive but was actually calculating. He was wary of Myrnin now, having already been made aware of his strength and speed.

"I am informing Amelie of -"

"_No!_" Myrnin's furious roar filled the room and fuelled the wide sweep of his arm which knocked the phone out of Oliver's hands and sent it crashing into the wall, where it fractured into several component pieces and dropped to the floor, dead. Oliver sighed, and turned to face the man again.

"Make no mistakes, Myrnin. I am not Ëosulf. I am under no oath to Amelie, and I will not hesitate to snap your neck the next time you interfere with me."

Myrnin grinned, "I would dearly love to see you try, old man."

"You test my patience," Oliver snarled in return, "Must I forcibly restrain you?"

His fingers, tensed into claws by his sides, secretly itched to dig into the other man's throat. For years had he wanted to rip the smile off his face, a thousand times over those years had he endured the man's taunts and jibes and overwhelming, blasphemous stupidity - now, now he had been handed this chance on a golden platter by Amelie, to really, truly hurt the man. To make him suffer as he deserved. Something close to hatred rose up suddenly like bile in Oliver's throat and he grinned, fangs extended, as Myrnin made his reply.

"I would love to see you try." He ground out, still grinning like a dog. That was all the encouragement Oliver needed.

He flew at Myrnin suddenly, not even giving himself time to think about the movement lest the thought of it show on his features, and he was rewarded with a grunt of surprise from the other man as he crashed into him.

Myrnin's head hit the wall behind him with a loud crack, and Oliver saw his eyes roll up into his head with the force of it. His grinned savagely, and felt the lust for the kill pumping through his veins as he secured his hands around the other's throat and began to squeeze until he felt things beginning to pop beneath the skin. The rest of his body ground into Myrnin's, keeping him pinned to the wall. He pushed a thigh between Myrnin's legs and used the other to keep one of them immobile.

For a moment there was only the sound of Myrnin struggling in the air as his hands scrabbled uselessly, first at the wall, then at the hands on his throat, and finally at Oliver's immovable chest before dropping limply to his sides, unable to find enough leverage to facilitate his escape or even cause any damage to his captor.

"You see," Oliver growled, squeezing until Myrnin convulsed slightly and he saw blood begin to trickle from the corner of his mouth, "You see how easily I can crush you?"

Myrnin closed his eyes, and for a wild moment Oliver basked in his victory. And then Myrnin's dark lashes fluttered and Oliver felt something in his stomach tighten at the sound which rumbled up through the man's chest and left his lips. A guttural moan, filled with lust, arousal, passion, desire - Oliver's eyes widened and he almost let go, filled with stunned revulsion. But then his mind caught up and with a snarl he pressed closer, convinced it had been a ploy for freedom on Myrnin's part.

"Give it up, dog," He said, leaning forwards to growl in the other's ear, "I have you."

This time, he emitted a high pitched keen, and Oliver felt Myrnin's hips begin to move beneath his own. Shocked, he watched in growing consternation as the man moved wantonly against him, quite clearly and obviously aroused by the situation. Oliver swore, torn between the desire to rip Myrnin's throat out, the knowledge that if he did so Amelie would surely have his own served to her for his trouble, the desire to hurt him as much as possible anyway, and his repulsion at the man's actions - not that he believed they were borne from genuine arousal.

"Myrnin, you vermin! Stop."

Myrnin lifted his eyes to meet Oliver's. There was minimal recognition in them - none of the challenge or gloating Oliver had been expecting. Instead, they were clouded with lust, and suddenly Oliver felt dread as he felt hands questing beneath his coat, fluid fingers searching out the hem of his shirt.

"What are you- " He loosened his grip and moved away slightly, suddenly unsure of himself, but Myrnin threw his head back and arched his back, keeping the pressure between their bodies intact. Oliver felt the heat of the other man's abdomen and groin pressed against him and staggered back, his mind jarring and reeling at the unexpected turn of events. He fought to think rationally, but Myrnin had surged forwards into him as he moved back as if locked to his body by magnets.

"Stop- Myrnin-"

Oliver had completely released Myrnin now, and attempted to shove him away, but the fingers inside his coat had found his shirt and were drawing it up, exposing part of his stomach to the rapidly warming air of the lab. Hastily, Oliver batted Myrnin's hands out of the way, pulling his shirt back down. As he did so Myrnin let out a moan of frustration and brought his thin hands up in a blur to grasp the sides of Oliver's head. Before the other vampire could react, he had lunged forward and crushed his lips to Oliver's, whose mouth was half open in a snarl.

The shock made him stumble as Myrnin's full weight was suddenly pressed against him, and he fell heavily as several sensations assaulted his sensitive body at once. First was the intrusion of a surprisingly agile tongue past his shock-slackened lips and into the unprepared cavity of his mouth, second was the definite heat of lust rolling from Myrnin's body, accompanied by a low growl which set his teeth on edge and sent a curious buzzing through his bones, and thirdly there was the unbelievable but undeniable solidity which pressed at him through Myrnin's trousers. He had jerked away from this contact as though scalded, which had caused him to fall, bringing Myrnin down with him.

Oliver gasped as he hit the floor, and their teeth clashed painfully. Blood filled his mouth as the impact caused him to bite the inside of his cheek, and he dimly heard Myrnin's small crow of excitement as he redoubled the assault on his mouth, tongue eagerly searching out the precious liquid. The hands which tangled in his hair and gripped his lower jaw made it impossible for Oliver to turn his head or even close his mouth without breaking his jawbone, and during the fall Myrnin had somehow managed to clamp his thighs around Oliver's torso, leaving his legs to kick and writhe uselessly at the air.

Eventually, Myrnin pulled away, but immediately moved one hand down to work at the top buttons on Oliver's shirt, the other remaining tangled in his greying hair, clutching it almost painfully tight.

"Myrnin!" Oliver choked, as soon as he had worked past the lump in his throat enough to speak, "Stop this! You are not thinking clearly! I am a_ man_!" At the last moment his voice broke, turning from commanding to the closest Oliver had come to begging in the last half century. He would not - he _could_ not - suffer this humiliation at the hands of such a man.

Myrnin was unaffected by his words, and Oliver realised that this was no longer about some petty rivalry or adversity between them. He did not care about humiliating Oliver, or anything like that. The look in his dark eyes said it all; he was lost to sheer instinct - he _wanted_ him. He would not stop.

Oliver knew blind panic for a moment at thought of what this man could do to him, but then Myrnin shifted his hips downwards suddenly in an effort to facilitate his one-handed exploration of Oliver's chest, and a bolt of pure bliss juddered unexpectedly through his body. Oliver started and gasped, and then felt his cheeks burn with shame as he understood what had happened.

_Impossible - to react that way to a man - I would never -_ but then Myrnin, watching Oliver's face closely, bucked his hips again, causing another involuntary groan to rise out of Oliver's throat as another bolt of pleasure sparked in his groin.

Myrnin giggled deliriously and lowered his face to Oliver's chest, where he began to alternate between hard, teasing bites and soft kisses, occasionally flicking his tongue across the skin there and sending little tingles of pleasure rippling out across the surface.

Oliver turned his face away, trying to deny the sensations, but he could already feel the evidence of the strength of his reaction pressing into his assailant's pelvis.

"You bastard!" He shouted suddenly, but his words were almost sobbed, "I will kill you for this! I'll make you _scream_!"

Myrnin raised his eyes to Oliver's, face still pressed against his stomach. Then he stopped swirling his tongue around Oliver's belly button just long enough to moan quite enthusiastically in a fashion which made Oliver's body twitch, and breathed two words;

"Yes,_ please_."

* * *

_It pained me slightly to leave our boys there, but perhaps it was for the best. This remains a one-shot for now, but I ~may~ write more if the inspiration strikes me, and if I am given enough encouragement. *hint*_

_Also, returning readers may notice that I have changed my pen name and deleted a few of my old stories. This comes as part of a series of changes to my choice in writing style, and regrettably I have to inform you that I will not be continuing 'Only in Morganville' or 'A Singular Kind of Romance'. Thank you to all the people who followed, reviewed and gave support for those stories, as well as the few who sent the occasional PM to me. I wish I could continue them but they have been dormant for such a long time now that I feel to return to them would be going backwards. I shall still leave them up for old time's sake. For now, at least. :) ~ _


	2. Everybody's Fool

_I've an inkling that this bit of writing (I refuse to call it a chapter because it isn't!) is not quite up to scratch, but really, I can't be bothered. Hardly anyone reads Oliver/Myrnin fics anyway! This was originally supposed to be another little oneshot with a bit of cute, needy Myrnin trying to get it on with Oliver in front of everyone, but it mutated into something else. A horrible little monster. Sort of follows on from the previous 'chapter'...Well, it's in the same Universe, at least._

* * *

Claire caught Myrnin's eyes across the table; he grinned brightly at her and mimed staking himself, which caused her to sputter and choke on the water in the glass she had just raised to her lips. A few people around the table glanced at her briefly, but then their gazes snapped back to Amelie again, who was speaking. Still.

Claire checked her watch surreptitiously, and groaned. Three hours. They had been in this meeting for three _frickin' _hours. That was an hour and a half since the 'official' meeting had ended and all the superficial members of the council had left, thinking it was over, leaving the inner council to deal with the real issues. Claire didn't exactly agree with this version of democracy, but she figured that this was as good as it was going to get; she should just be glad that Amelie had even included any humans in it.

The inner council unofficially consisted of Amelie, Oliver, Myrnin, Michael, Hannah Moses, the Mayor (whoever that happened to be), herself and Robert Newman, a stout middle-aged man who apparently owned a lot of the businesses in Morganville. Claire wasn't sure whether that meant he was rich or not; most of the shops in Morganville looked as though they'd seen better days. That, or they'd been built to look that way. She wouldn't put it past the vampires to do that just to deter visitors.

Besides the eight of them, there was also another dark-skinned male vampire whose name Claire couldn't pronounce, which made nine overall with five vampires and four humans, but Michael often voted with the humans, and Myrnin - well, he was Myrnin. Claire suspected he was only on the council because of his age and the services he'd done for the town.

She glanced at Amelie, made sure she wasn't looking in her direction, and then looked back at Myrnin. She raised two fingers to the side of her head and pretended to shoot herself. Myrnin broke into a wide grin, and she saw the vampire to Myrnin's left - the older gentleman with greying hair whose name she didn't know - watching them and smirking slightly.

She doubted there was a single person in the room save Amelie who wasn't bored out of their mind right now. Apart from Oliver. He was the only one who seemed genuinely interested in the proceedings, watching Amelie alertly and actually interrupting every now and then in a low voice to confer with her on something. He had the right, of course - he sat at the head of the oval table with Amelie, on her right, and though she had been the main speaker over the last couple of hours they practically co-ruled now.

Not that Claire wasn't interested in what was happening. With all the changes going on, it had been decided that the council board had to be made up of equal numbers humans and vampires, and Claire had been delighted at first when Amelie had asked her to be a member - until she realised that she was obliged to attend every single meeting, which were mostly spent listening to Amelie talk about boring legal or financial things which went straight over Claire's head. She actually suspected that the only reason she was there was to keep Myrnin company; in all the many meetings she had been to so far he had never done anything other than seemingly try his utmost to piss the hell out of Oliver.

He piped up whenever there was a controversial topic being discussed to give (mostly) useless suggestions, or when Oliver was arguing a point. He always argued against Oliver, even if it was to his detriment. Like the time they had been discussing a new law which was to be passed concerning hunting rights, and Myrnin had argued very loudly for the case of the humans, even though Claire knew that he himself had the occasional..._incident_. She liked to think that he didn't kill if he could help it, though. She was convinced that the only reason he had done that was to wind up Oliver, who was vehemently against the hunting laws being restricted at all.

He hadn't been so bad today; in fact, he had hardly said anything at all, merely lounging in his chair and staring at the ceiling, looking as bored as Claire felt. Amelie did have to ask him to stop drumming his fingers on the table at one point, though.

Claire dragged herself forcibly back to the present to listen to what Amelie was saying, realising that she had no idea what was going on anymore.

"...that Common Grounds will be reinstated as a neutral zone, although it will remain under Oliver's control."

Myrnin snorted. Loudly.

In unison, the heads of all eight of the other people around the table turned to look at him.

"Well?" Amelie said.

"Well?" Myrnin drawled, still slouched in his chair, "Hardly neutral, methinks," He thrust his chin in Oliver's direction, "Not with that moon-calf in charge."

To his credit, Oliver merely rolled his eyes before turning to Amelie, ready to continue, but Amelie was staring at Myrnin, clearly irritated by his interruption.

"Very well, Myrnin," She said coolly, "What do you propose as a solution?"

Claire barely managed to suppress a groan as Myrnin sat up. Really, Amelie should have known better. She was just giving Myrnin what he wanted; a distraction, and all eyes on him. This would just drag out the meeting for another ten minutes, prolonging all of their torture.

She caught the smirk Myrnin sent in Oliver's direction, and saw the exasperated look Olive gave Amelie as Myrnin began speaking.

"Really," He drawled, at his most condescending - which for Claire was a worst case scenario, as boredom was often followed by listlessness, arrogance and a sort of cruel condescension she had grown to loathe, "I should have thought it was obvious. If 'Common Grounds'-" His mouth formed a sneer as he said the words, "- is intended as a neutral zone, then it is hardly appropriate for it to be run by a single representative who is strongly in favour of one group or another."

There was silence for a moment as the whole room digested the fact that, in one sentence, Myrnin had not only raised a relevant point, but had also_ not_ mocked Oliver. The truth was that Oliver had been the owner of Common Grounds for so long that it hadn't occurred to anyone that there might be an issue. After all, he employed human baristas.

Then in one fell swoop, Myrnin ruined any chance he had of being taken seriously in the next, oh, hundred years. Give or take.

"Besides, who would want to buy their coffee from him?"

His voice said he was joking, but the look on his face said otherwise. Claire stared. Another ten minutes. That was all he had to sit there for, but no, he had to choose _now_ to make the whole room aware of how much he despised Oliver. As if they didn't already know.

"Myrnin!" Amelie snapped, "That's enough. You've made your point, it will be considered. Sit down."

"Where am I to go for my coffee if he is in charge of the only neutral ground coffee shop in the town? I wouldn't want to step foot in the kind of establishment he is no doubt used to running," Myrnin said, stubbornly continuing to stand.

"You wouldn't be welcome anyway, dog!" Oliver snarled, losing his patience. Claire closed her eyes and sighed to herself. Things always escalated once Oliver had risen to the bait.

"See, Amelie!" Myrnin cried, for all the world like a young boy attempting to get his sibling in trouble, "Hardly_ fair_, is it?"

Before Amelie could respond, Oliver cut in, snarling across the table at Myrnin.

"And is it _fair_ that you send Claire to my coffee shop every morning to buy your coffee for you, and more often than not send her back with a made-up complaint just to irritate me?!"

A few eyes swivelled in Claire's direction, including Michael's and Hannah's, and she threw her hands up in a gesture which said, _Don't look at me. _

It was true though. She had begun to suspect after Myrnin had sent her back the third day in a row, saying his coffee was too disgusting to drink. She had taken a sip on the way over and it had tasted fine to her, but she had just assumed that Myrnin had super vampire tastebuds or something, and could detect something which she couldn't. Claire made a note to have a word with him later. If he_ had _been wasting her time without a good reason, she would of course blackmail him for money. There was a lovely blue dress she'd seen while window shopping the other day which was, funnily enough, on sale for the exact amount of money Myrnin would have to give her in compensation.

"It isn't my fault you employ inferior baristas!" Myrnin retorted.

"I always prepare your orders myself!" Oliver snapped.

"And they are always_ inferior!_" Myrnin shouted. Claire thought he was enjoying himself a little too much. She didn't know why Oliver let himself get so wound up; he had stood up abruptly at Myrnin's last comment, chair screeching horribly on the polished wooden floor.

"Enough!" Amelie said suddenly, and the room went silent suddenly. They could all feel the power rippling off her. Oliver sat, and that would have been the end of it if, as he was sitting down, Myrnin hadn't muttered,

"Not just your _coffee _that is inferior, I see."

Oliver slammed his palm down on the table with enough force to leave a dent.

"Insult me once more, you fool, and I swear it shall be the last time you ever speak! I shall rip your tongue out of your mouth. It is only your brain this town requires!"

Claire saw the shadow which passed over Myrnin's face the second before he started grinning like the cat that got the cream, and silently moved her chair back, out of what she judged to be the danger zone.

"At least I make some part of myself useful!" He retorted, "Or have you forgotten? With our only enemies obliterated, you are of no use to anyone anymore," He leaned back in his chair with his arms crossed behind his head, looking very pleased with himself, "There is no place for a mangy old war leader here. I shouldn't think it'll be long before Amelie has you...removed."

There was a split second during which time seemed to slow down and Claire wondered why on earth no one had stepped in to make Myrnin _shut up_, and then with an enraged snarl, Oliver launched himself across the table, his arms outstretched for Myrnin's throat. The expression on Myrnin's face was almost comical, but it only lasted for a moment before Oliver barrelled into him and sent them and the chair toppling over.

Then they were out of Claire's sight, her view obscured by the large oak table around which they were all sitting. She heard the thud as the two men hit the floor though, and what followed, which was oddly similar to the sound of two cats fighting. Everyone else around the table, who had mostly been watching the argument with mild amusement, were suddenly sitting up in their chairs, looking at each other in shock. Those closer to the fighting began to move away, but in the next second Oliver dragged Myrnin up, and _threw_ him across the room to crash into the panelled wall. He thudded to the floor in a tangle of limbs, and Claire gasped as he got up and she saw that one of his arms was twisted at an unnatural angle, clearly broken.

She looked at Amelie, wondering why she hadn't gone all ice-queen on them yet, but she was calmly sorting through some papers on the table in front of her as if nothing was actually happening.

Oliver had Myrnin up against the wall by the lapels of his coat, and was repeatedly slamming him into the woodwork, splintering more of it each time.

For his part, Myrnin was laughing almost hysterically, wholly unconcerned by his predicament or the blood which had begun to stain the wall behind his head. Claire looked around her, aghast. Everyone was just sitting there. Granted, Robert Newman looked completely shocked, but he was a relatively new member of the council, and no one else seemed to be particularly concerned about the fight which had just broken out, or Myrnin's well-being. Or the wall's, for that matter.

But then again, this was Morganville. Everyone was used to fighting; Claire had just assumed that one of the most unlikely places for it (in the physical form anyway) would be in a council meeting.

She looked at The Founder again. Amelie had apparently finished sorting her documents, and was now sitting with her hands folded in her lap, watching the two vampires with polite interest.

"Amelie?" Claire said, raising her voice a little to be heard over the snarling and crashes of splintering wood. Luckily she was sitting quite near to her rather than down the table. Amelie turned her gaze to Claire briefly before flicking back to watch Oliver and Myrnin. She took that as her cue to speak.

"Aren't you going to do something?"

"And what do you propose I do? Scold them in front of everyone like the little boys that they are? No," She shook her head, "They will be punished later for their utter stupidity."

Claire gaped until Amelie turned to look at her again.

"I thought you were all for public punishment!"

Amelie smiled, just slightly.

"Yes, little Claire, but this town is changing. And," She added, apparently as an afterthought, "Myrnin has been exceedingly irritating as of late."

Amelie turned away again at this point, making it quite clear that the conversation was over.

Claire stared for a moment longer before her attention was turned back to the progressing fight as Myrnin's laughter rose even higher. He had broken free of Oliver's grip and was dancing just out of his reach, taunting him.

"Come on then, old man!"

Oliver hissed and swiped at him in a movement that was too fast for Claire's eyes to keep up with, but Myrnin still managed to dodge it with apparent ease, springing straight back into place.

"I'll-"

Oliver began to speak in his most threatening voice, but Myrnin interrupted.

"Yes, yes, I know. What are you going to do?" Up until this point he had been jovial, toying with Oliver, but now his voice dropped and there was a malicious glint in his eyes as he spoke his next words slowly and deliberately, "Rip out my tongue and see if you can still make me _scream_?"

There was something dark about the way he said it that made Claire shiver; even Amelie looked up at him and frowned. At his words, Oliver froze for a moment, and an indecipherable expression passed over his face. If Claire had thought he was pissed before, she was wrong.

With a strangled sound of rage, he flung himself at Myrnin for a second time, slamming him back into the wall with enough force to embed him a couple of inches into the woodwork.

"_You dare?!_" Oliver roared, shaking him, "You _dare?!_"

Myrnin just stared at him, eyes dark and mouth pursed. His hands dropped to his sides and he just stood there, swaying in Oliver's grip.

"Yes,_ I dare_," He hissed. Claire heard the hitch in his breath, saw his pale fingers twitching helplessly and realised that something was_ wrong_.

So, apparently, had Amelie.

"That is enough, now. Sit down, please," She said quietly. She was watching the two intently, brow furrowed. The two men ignored her, or didn't register her words.

Myrnin spoke again, so quietly that Claire almost missed his words.

"I dare as _you_ dared, Oliver."

She had no idea what he was talking about, but the tension crackling between the two was tangible; Claire felt her stomach tighten and a wave of sick anticipation wash coldly over her. There was something very not right here, something she was missing. This was not Myrnin's usual game any more.

He made to bolt forward suddenly, but Oliver's grip on his lapels was strong, his knuckles visibly whitened. Myrnin snarled in frustration, his face twisting. He struggled again, and Oliver slammed him back into the wall even more ferociously than before.

"Explain." Oliver growled.

Myrnin let his head loll back, chest heaving, and gazed sullenly at Oliver for a moment before dropping his head forward again.

"You took advantage of me," He said finally, and something in his voice was missing. He sounded broken.

"Meeting adjourned." Amelie's voice rolled around the silent hall, laden with such power that everyone immediately stood up from their seats, even Claire. They left the room quickly and noiselessly, some stealing glances on their way out at the two vampires against the wall. As Claire made for the door though, slightly relieved to be getting away from whatever odd thing was going on between Oliver and Myrnin, Amelie stopped her, and Michael too. Claire slid uncomfortably back into her seat, Michael standing behind her, and they watched the two vampires standing across the hall as if in a world of their own, seemingly unaware of anyone else's presence.

Myrnin was speaking again, his voice slightly stronger and his eyes flashing.

"You took advantage of me-"

"_No_!" Oliver cut in, shaking him again, but Myrnin just raised his voice.

"-in a moment of weakness!"

There was a moment's pause, where Oliver just stared at Myrnin, and then Claire flinched as there was a blur of movement and Myrnin's head snapped to the side suddenly. The sharp slap of flesh hitting flesh seemed horribly amplified in the silence of the room.

Myrnin slowly lifted his head again, one cheek already flushing red from the force of Oliver's blow. His expression was unreadable; Claire waited for him to react, almost forgetting to breath.

Finally, with a snarled sound like a strangled sob, he surged forwards - and crushed his mouth to Oliver's.

For a moment, the scene seemed frozen in action; Myrnin caught in the act of his forward momentum tipping into Oliver, his hands curled into fists on either side of the taller man's jaw, Oliver leaning backwards, one foot behind him, raised hands just about to let go of the other's clothing and push him away. Neither moved for a fraction of a second. Claire heard a muffled sound of protest escape Oliver as Myrnin moved his lips against his mouth, as if trying to fuse the two together. The scientist's eyes were squeezed shut as he mashed himself closer to Oliver, snarling a little in frustration as he attempted to elicit a response, tongue flicking out briefly between sharpened teeth.

It reality the interaction lasted only a few seconds, but to Claire's shock-flooded brain it seemed slowed down. Then the bubble was broken, and Myrnin pushed angrily away from Oliver at the same time as Oliver seemed to regain control of his muscles and shoved himself backwards, stumbling and wiping his mouth viciously with his forearm.

They stood facing each other for a moment, both breathing unnecessarily hard, and then Myrnin slowly started to laugh. It began as little wheezing chuckles, and blossomed into almost hysterical giggles which sent him tripping back into the wall, massaging his throat with one hand and wiping away a trickle of blood from his lip with the other.

Amelie's voice broke in over the waves of his laughter.

"_What is going on_?"

Oliver didn't turn round to look at her. Instead, he spat and growled at Myrnin, then whirled around as Amelie appeared behind him suddenly, one pale hand flashing out to grab his arm. He hissed at her and wrenched his arm out of her grip, and then he was gone, moving quicker than Claire's eyes could keep up with. The door clicked shut behind him, and in unison all eyes in the room swivelled to Myrnin.

He was still laughing manically to himself, but it died down to little hiccoughs as Amelie turned to look at him.

"You fool," She hissed, "What have you _done_?"

Myrnin set off giggling again, bending almost double, hands clutching his knees. He managed to gasp out an answer between the laughs which were shaking his body, so that his words were almost missed.

"Oliver," He said, "_Oliver_, of all people."

It took a moment for the meaning to sink in, but when it did Claire raised a shaky hand to cover her mouth, eyes flicking to Michael. His expression was a comical mix of absolute shock and nausea. Claire didn't blame him. She herself felt vaguely sick at the idea, but she could also feel the impulse for hysterical laughter rising in her chest.

Her mind was refusing to process the concept properly - part of her just didn't believe him, and for once it seemed that Amelie was having similar difficulties.

"...Oliver?" She said, her voice echoing hollowly in the hall, "No, Myrnin. I refuse to believe it. Even you...even you are not insane enough-"

"Apparently I am," Myrnin cackled, for the present completely unashamed of his admission. Claire expected that later, when he was more in control of all his faculties, he might feel differently.

"Dear God!" Amelie said, "Do you have any idea what you have done?! Do you torment him on purpose?"

Myrnin stopped laughing, pursing his lips into a moue of petulance.

"No," He muttered, but his mask was cracked, and for a moment a look of helplessness and shame passed over his face.

"What were you thinking?!"

"I didn't know!" Myrnin snapped, running a thin hand through his dishevelled hair. "I was not in control!" He breathed heavily into the silence, looking defeated.

Amelie sighed and started to speak, but Myrnin cut in, his voice whipping bitter and harsh through the air.

"He should have known better. He should have stopped it."

* * *

_May revise later and try to neaten this up. Not much in the way of 'stuff', if you get my meaning, but if I post another I promise it'll be gloriously stuffed with _stuff_ ;) Or it won't. Who knows. Maybe if everyone who reads this reviews begging me to write something smutty then I will. :)_

_Many thanks to the lone reviewer for chapter one; aside from leaving a lovely review, without you I would have felt so unappreciated that I probably wouldn't have continued this. So thanks :D Hope you like this too! _


	3. The Denial Twist

_Right, here's another for you. Follows on from the other two in the same arc as it happens, but as this fic isn't supposed to be continuous I will at some point deviate from this plotline. Do a couple of oneshots, that kind of thing. Or not. Whatever._

_I must say I am a tiny,_ little _bit disappointed in the response this has gotten so far. I know this isn't a popular pairing aaaaand I may not be catering to an age-appropriate audience with this, but I've consulted my figures (oh yes, I have) and I can see that there are still a fair few souls out there who've read this, so a few more reviews are in order, I think. And can I get that order to go, with a couple of heart-shaped cinnamon flavoured biscuits on the side? I'd better. THANKS! :)_

* * *

Myrnin looked up from his book as the door opened, and then looked back down again when he realised it was Oliver, lifting the cover to obscure his face. His features twisted into a scowl as he heard the sounds of the other vampire descending the stairs into his lab. The footsteps came to a stop a few feet away from him, and a throat was cleared.

"Myrnin." Oliver said curtly.

Myrnin made no response, choosing instead to pretend he hadn't heard.

"_Myrnin_."

Oliver wasn't messing about; his tone made that much clear. Slowly, Myrnin lowered his book, keeping his face carefully blank.

"Yes." He said, tonelessly. His gaze was fixed on a particular point on the ceiling.

"I have a message from Amelie."

Despite himself, Myrnin's eyes flicked down to Oliver briefly before returning to the ceiling.

"I do not want it."

"And I do not care." Myrnin could hear the sneer in his enemy's voice, "She wishes to see you."

"But I'm _busy_." Myrnin complained, setting his book to the side, "I think I'll stay here."

Oliver snarled.

"_Now_."

Myrnin shook his head, causing his curls to bounce from side to side.

"Tell her I am far too busy," He said, fluttering one pale hand in a gesture of dismissal.

"I do not take orders from you, dog." Oliver growled, stepping towards him in a threatening manner. Myrnin eyed the other vampire dubiously for a moment, then rose to his feet in one fluid motion.

"I do not care what or not you tell Amelie. I am not coming," He said lightly, "Which means you can leave, now."

He watched as Oliver tilted his head to the side, a predatory gleam in his eyes which made Myrnin's spine tingle slightly in warning.

The other vampire's lip curled back in a parody of a grin.

"I could make you come."

Myrnin curled his hands into fists by his side and slowly released them, feeling tension beginning to thrum in his muscles. His body was preparing itself for the fight it sensed might be coming.

"You would threaten me in my own home?"

Oliver did grin this time, and Myrnin tried not to squirm beneath the other's gaze. He felt unaccountably uncomfortable standing in front of the other man. Vulnerable, somehow.

"I would like you to leave, now," He said, quietly.

Oliver didn't move; his grin stretched wider, fangs descended. He was _leering_ at him.

Myrnin stood stock still, assessing the situation. Oliver meant him harm. He could deal with that; the two were old enemies and rivals, they had fought before many times. They each were used to the other's style of combat. But this was different. There was a premonition twisting like a snake through Myrnin's gut, making him feel almost sick.

He was afraid.

He was afraid of Oliver's intentions, and that meant that Oliver had the upper hand. Fear would cause Myrnin to make mistakes. He was bereft of his usual logic, and if it came to physical combat, Oliver would win. He should diffuse the situation.

He licked his lips, and tried to school his expression and body language to exude his usual cocky confidence. Oliver must not scent his fear.

"I want you to leave," He repeated.

It became evident that his attempt to keep up a nonchalant facade had failed when other vampire's leer turned triumphant.

"No."

Myrnin tried not to shift, knowing he was becoming agitated.

"Please."

The word tasted funny in his mouth, like bile. He wished briefly that Claire was there with him. She would know what to say. She always knew what to say - she certainly would have not made the mistake Myrnin had just made by exposing the soft, weak underbelly of his fear to his opponent so quickly.

Oliver's brows rose. He folded his arms.

"No, I don't think so," He drawled, "You and I have...business."

Myrnin fought to keep his expression impassive, but his mind was whirring into overdrive.

Panic flashed through his brain briefly. He dismissed it. The fear, however, he could not get rid of so easily.

It lay coiled in his belly like a dragon, causing his heart to lurch sickeningly.

Options reeled through his mind one after the other. He knew why Oliver was doing this. He had hurt him, humiliated him - albeit unintentionally - and now he was being payed back. That was what the malevolent glint in Oliver's eyes told Myrnin as he began to stalk towards him.

"I'm sorry," Myrnin blurted suddenly. Oliver halted.

"Sorry?" The growl was soft, but the dragon in Myrnin's gut began to stir, stretching out it's massive wings in the cave of his belly and flicking it's great tail.

He nodded, almost feverishly.

"Yes, yes. Sorry."

The other vampire's laugh was empty, humourless.

"An apology? You really are a fool."

Myrnin shook his head again, dark eyes wide. He was aware that his usual cavalier attitude towards these things had failed him completely - he had been caught completely unprepared, and for once could think of no witty repartee with which to stall his foe. He had avoided Oliver as much as was possible ever since their last disastrous encounter in the council meeting, feeling ashamed and for some reason as though he had been outwitted by the man. He felt inferior and unsure of his footing. His mind and body had let him down, betrayed him to _this man_, of all people.

"Oliver-"

"_Enough_," Oliver snapped, "I have had enough of your foolishness, you lunatic. Amelie should have got rid of you decades ago." He sank into a crouch and bared his fangs at Myrnin. There was nothing for it; Oliver was determined to bring things to a head. Myrnin tried to stall, panicking. He was scared, weak. He hadn't yet fed today. He couldn't think, didn't know what Oliver was going to do.

"I- I don't understand."

"It's simple really. You humiliated me. I intend to break you."

Myrnin took a faltering step back, and Oliver smiled.

"That's it," He murmured, "_Run_."

With his words, the shorter man's control shattered. The beast in his belly breathed fire into his brain; he took a searing breath and bolted.

A second later a body crashed into him, sending pain shooting through his shoulder and knocking the breath from him. He was sent pirouetting through the air briefly before his reflexes kicked in and he twisted his body, landing on his feet like a cat. The landing was graceful but Myrnin was coughing, winded by the impact of Oliver's body.

He tried to straighten up to fight but hands closed over his biceps and _shoved_, propelling him forwards to crash into one of his lab tables. His head cracked sharply on the wooden surface and it splintered under his weight, glass and wood digging into his skin as test tubes and beakers were crushed underneath him. He fell with the table, but no sooner had he hit the floor than he was hauled mercilessly to his feet by the back of his coat.

Myrnin felt himself being shaken, but couldn't make his limbs work, momentarily stunned. His head rolled on his shoulders, blood oozing thickly from a gash in his forehead and dripping into his eyes.

Oliver was speaking, snarling.

Then he was flying again, a short distance before he hit the wall. The back of his head hit the stonework with another crack and his eyes rolled up into his head for a moment. Spots crowded into his vision and he swayed, trying to keep standing.

Oliver was shouting.

"Fight me, damn you!"

Myrnin wiped the blood from his face with hands that shook slightly, and threw a feeble punch at Oliver as he moved in again. The other vampire caught his fist and _twisted_, and there was an audible noise as Myrnin's wrist shattered. He cried out in pain and swung his other fist up and around, catching Oliver a blow on the side of his head. The man reacted with a surge of anger, catching hold of Myrnin's forearm and wrenching it out to the side and down, stepping forwards into his personal space. Oliver's lips compressed into a thin line as he exerted a little pressure on Myrnin's arm, bending it back until Myrnin felt it break somewhere around the elbow. He whimpered in pain and fear as Oliver dropped the newly useless limb, grinning savagely at him. His prey was cornered.

Oliver stepped closer and Myrnin pressed back into the wall, breathing shallowly. He was only mildly irritated by the pain of his shattered wrist and forearm, but he knew that he was now entirely at Oliver's mercy; there was no way to fight his way out, incapacitated as he was. The only option was to wait, and hope to stall or distract Oliver long enough to heal.

"What are you going to do?" Myrnin asked abruptly. Claire had once said that Oliver liked the sound of his own voice. Perhaps he would be distracted easily this way - Myrnin recalled that the downfall of most villains in popular culture seemed to be linked to their tendency to expound at length upon their evil plans.

Oliver raised a single finger and pressed it to Myrnin's lips, eyes dark and full of intent.

"Ssh."

Startled, Myrnin turned his face away instinctively, only to have it wrenched back around to face Oliver by an iron-strong grasp on his jaw. When he tried to pull his head away Oliver frowned and tightened his grip until Myrnin felt his jaw threatening to be crushed. It was only when he involuntarily let out a small whimper of pain that he was released.

He tried to raise a hand to rub at his face, and hissed in pain when he was reminded of the breaks.

Oliver laughed.

"You are at my mercy, Myrnin. How does it feel?"

He responded quickly when Myrnin opened his mouth to respond, suddenly and ferociously back handing him across the left side of his face.

"Do not speak," Oliver growled, eyes flashing. Myrnin closed his mouth and tried not to squirm against the wall.

He stood still and watched the other man watching him, his mind endlessly working over the situation, trying to think his way out. It usually worked; he just needed enough time. If only he had fed recently, if only Claire were here, if only the portals weren't down, if only he weren't so unreasonably, irrationally afraid. His heart beat traitorously; he dragged in a nervous breath he didn't need.

"I could break your ribs one by one," Oliver murmured after a moment's consideration, staring at him with slightly unfocused eyes. Myrnin jumped when he felt fingers probing his torso just beneath his ribcage, searching for a weak point. A splayed hand pressed into the middle of his chest to keep him pinned to the wall as Oliver started to apply pressure, pushing in with his thumb. The odd feeling built up until it was released suddenly with a dull snap. Myrnin's breath hitched slightly, but he made no sound. When Oliver's fingers began to apply pressure on the next rib up, however, he snarled and tried to move forwards only to be thrown up against the wall by Oliver's entire body weight.

"Do not move." He hissed in his ear. Myrnin growled in response and bucked his body forwards, trying to force the other man away.

"Ah, that's right. I forgot where your interests lie. My apologies," Oliver said, and his voice was honey and tar, sickly sweet and deathly dark, "You must be impatient."

The words jarred and hit their mark; Myrnin felt a heated blush rise in his high cheekbones as he was reminded of the last time Oliver had held him in a similar position against the very same wall of his lab. Then, he had been out of his mind. Now, he was beginning to wish he was.

A hand ran brusquely up Myrnin's side, rucking up his clothing and causing him to flinch away to the side.

The hand lifted to his face, caressing his cheek almost tenderly for a moment before tangling in his hair and tugging harshly on it. Myrnin yowled and Oliver swooped in and covered the scientist's open mouth with his own. The kiss was hard and unforgiving, all teeth, and his tongue entered Myrnin's mouth to search out and intrude in the most intimate places it could find.

Myrnin tried to speak but his words were lost in the dark, moist cavern of their joined mouths. He had so far remained lucid throughout the ordeal, but at this turn of events he felt his control beginning to waver slightly. Oliver's attentions on his body - one hand was trailing a painful path down to his groin, pausing to scratch, pinch, tear and gouge on the way - were beginning to stir something inside him. He had never been known for his restraint or his ability to successfully discriminate, and although his brain was telling him firstly that Oliver was his enemy, and secondly that Oliver was a man, it was also whispering to him that you should keep your friends closer and your enemies closer, and that really, gender was all relative anyway.

Unable to stop or ignore the sensations which were assailing his nerves, and with his at best flimsy self control already dissolving, he let loose a small groan which mutated into an almost wanton moan as Oliver's hand found its target and began...ministrations. Then he jerked in pain as Oliver snarled and tightened his grip on Myrnin's hair in response.

His lips still moved savagely against Myrnin's own, and every time Myrnin tried to respond he would inflict pain, either by a sharp tug on his hair or by squeezing rather harder than was perhaps necessary with his other hand. This kept Myrnin effectively immobile, simultaneously becoming more aroused, more frustrated and more afraid.

He tried to keep quiet and still but his hands, now healed, seemed of their own accord to travel up and grasp the sides of Oliver's long coat. He told himself to push the man away, but Oliver's mouth moved suddenly to the side of his neck, nipping and suckling, and somehow he was throwing his head back and clinging on for dear life rather than shoving him away.

Myrnin gasped for air through bruised and bloody lips as Oliver bit down suddenly at the junction of his neck and shoulder. His whole body jerked in response, every muscle and fibre tightening for a moment, electrified.

"No!" He rasped, his voice ragged, "What are you doing?"

Oliver raised his bloody mouth from Myrnin's neck and drawled, "Breaking you, obviously," before returning to the wound.

Myrnin shoved at the other man's shoulders.

"Stop!" He shouted. Oliver growled and bit deeper, twisting his head to rip at the skin. Myrnin let out a sob as he felt the blood being drawn from his unwilling body. A vampire feeding from another vampire meant dominance, control. _Ownership_.

That was what Oliver was going for, Myrnin realised. Under normal circumstances he would be bound to Oliver if the other vampire took enough of his blood. But Myrnin's particular bloodline - an old, old one - gifted him the perk of immunity to that kind of control. It was something that had irked Amelie in the past; he was one of the only vampires whose mind she could not bend to her will. Not that she couldn't make him do what she wanted anyway, of course. Just that it would always be, ultimately, his own choice.

Catching himself as he began to slip, and forcing his mind back to the present, Myrnin realised that it did not actually matter whether he was bound to Oliver in the end or not; the shame was in the act itself. The knowledge that his enemy was humiliating him, had bested him.

He realised that a few tears had spilled onto his cheeks, dripping quickly down the sides of his face.

"You bastard," Myrnin snarled, gritting his teeth against the waves of shame which continued to wrack him as his increasingly feeble attempts to get away went almost unnoticed by Oliver.

The scientist's sense of shame was only increased when he found that despite the anger and embarrassment he was still thoroughly aroused by the situation. He found himself unable to ignore the heat of Oliver's body pressed against his own, unable to stop the pleasurable shudders running through his frame or the natural reaction to arousal which was occurring in his body, and which he knew that Oliver would be able to feel.

They could never be equal now. He would always remember this when he looked in Oliver's eyes - this betrayal.

"You bastard," Myrnin repeated, somewhat helplessly. He gave a last weak, perfunctory shove at the man's shoulders before letting his hands drop to his sides.

There was no more fight in him, and it was evident as Oliver raised his head from Myrnin's neck, grinning bloodily, that he knew this too. He felt his skin heating up as the other man leaned away slightly and flicked his eyes purposefully downwards. The look on his opponent's face was predatory and lustful. A faint wave of doubt flickered through the shorter man as Oliver ran a tongue over his upper lip. The man had never been known for mixing business with pleasure.

"Stop this now," Myrnin breathed, watching with darkened eyes as Oliver drew a palm against the outside of his trousers. Head swimming slightly, he let it fall back against the wall, staring at the same spot on the ceiling as he had earlier when Oliver had first entered the lab. As staring spots went, he thought, it was fairly useful. Interesting enough to warrant seventy to eighty seconds of staring at any one time, although he supposed that one day he might have to do something about it. After all, he couldn't risk- his internal dialogue was interrupted as Oliver's hand slipped inexorably inside his trousers.

"_Stop_!" He gasped, trying to loosen the knot of pleasure which had just tightened briefly in his abdomen. Colours began to fly behind his fluttering eyelids as his brain traitorously continued to register the sensations produced by his enemy's hand, "You have got what you wanted. This isn't- I-"

He broke off with an involuntary keening noise, his hips bucking forwards of their own accord. Oliver groaned and leaned in again, capturing Myrnin's lips unexpectedly with his own. The kiss was still harsh and bruising, but something was different. Oliver was breathing into Myrnin, panting between kisses.

A flash of understanding lit the scientist's brain for a moment; absurdly, he almost giggled. _Oh. _

"Oli-_ver_," He sang in the space between the meeting of their lips, allowing himself to wriggle pleasurably beneath the other man's hard body. The movement elicited another groan from Oliver. Myrnin opened his mouth again but the teasing sentence he had intended to impart turned into a small squeak as, in one swift movement accompanied by an irritated growl, Oliver lifted him, hitching one leg over his hip and crushing forwards, trapping him against the wall. Myrnin instinctively drew the other leg up and wrapped it over Oliver's other hip in an attempt to support himself. The movement brought the hardness in Oliver's groin pressing straight into his own, and his rising embarrassment at such a compromising position was forgotten with the bolt of pure pleasure the contact afforded him. He moved his hips again, inciting another wave of pleasure to wriggle in his abdomen, and his arms moved to wrap around Oliver's shoulders. For a moment he was almost dragged back to lucidity by the realisation of how like a woman he was currently behaving, but he was also currently wearing the rose-tinted spectacles of instinct-driven lust, and the comparison only made his stomach jump giddily.

He fumbled briefly at Oliver's shirt, humming in his throat with anticipation, feeling the pressure of the wall behind scraping his back as the other man set up a slow rolling rhythm with his hips.

The two were entirely lost to lust now, Myrnin deciding with a shiver that he was quite happy to let Oliver take the lead. He discovered he rather liked the feeling of someone else being in control; call it laziness, but it gave him a thrill to be in that position for once. He felt Oliver's grip tighten on his thigh as he thrust up with his hips, growling impatiently, his other hand tugging in Myrnin's hair. Myrnin shivered and clung on more tightly, burying his curly head in Oliver's shoulder as a hand searched erratically for the hem of his trousers.

Anticipation swelled deliciously in his chest and abdomen, and he bit down on the material of Oliver's shirt, groaning.

This morning he had not even expected to see Oliver, let alone engage in such lascivious activities. Their previous...interactions were a hazy memory which he had never consolidated and couldn't quite reconcile with the man he knew and despised. His actions that day had been governed entirely by instinct; he had at the time been lost to it anyway. A confrontation which would normally have led only to violence had somehow been allowed to mutate into something else entirely, even though Myrnin hadn't been aware of any attraction to Oliver beforehand. But then he had always been busy disliking him intensely. Many people thought that their angry displays of mutual loathing and constant bickering were a front, but they were in truth genuine. Mostly. He had to admit that sometimes, indeed much more often in recent years, he had begun to enjoy simply goading Oliver into apoplectic fits of rage. But that was a far cry from_ this_.

There had been times in the past when his lust had been fuelled by rage, true - but this was surely taking that to extremes. There was a difference between the rage sparked by an argument with a lover and the simmering hate one feels for an old enemy. There must be.

Not only that, but Myrnin had never felt any physical attraction to Oliver. He had in the past indulged in many rather dubious sexual activities, including experiments with others of his own gender, but all of the men he had taken to bed had been intellectuals; thin and pale, rather effeminate creatures. Oliver was the opposite of that, it seemed. An old war general. There was nothing feminine about him - except perhaps his long hair.

Myrnin thought of the short expanse of Oliver's chest that he'd managed to expose, and was surprised to find that he liked the way the flat pectorals on his chest had tightened and the way the muscles rippled when he moved. The soft curves of womanly flesh Myrnin was most used to were replaced with hard lines, but he didn't find it unattractive. In fact, he didn't mind at all. It was just...other.

His internal wondering was once again cut short as he was distracted by a rolling growl from his companion, accompanied by a strong hand on his freshly bare arse.

Immediately hence and for a long while after he found himself quite happily lost to any coherent thought as the two indulged in their own set of rather dubious sexual activities.

* * *

_All right, I admit I got about three quarters of the way through this, wanted to end it and found it almost impossible, so the last thousands words are a little ramble-y and probably manage to destroy any vestige of atmosphere I had previously built up. Ho hum. _


End file.
